From Sunrise to Sunrise
by Grey's Princess
Summary: My attempt at the Royai 100 Themes Challenge, one a day. My first FMA fanfic, so read and review? Shouldn't ever get above K , but if it does I'll change it.
1. 1: Military Personnel

**Hello, everyone! It's my turn to take a crack at the Royai 100 Themes Challenge! For anyone who's wondering, I'm not new to the Royai fandom, just to its fanfiction realm. I'm going to try and put one of these out a day, in order. They'll be short drabbles, and as that isn't exactly my forte, they may not be good at first. Anyway, here you go. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: If I drew well enough to own FMA, I don't think I'd be here, so...**

**1. Military Personnel**

"Do you ever regret it, Sir?" she asks as the door swings shut.

"You're going to have to be more specific than that, Lieutenant," he replies, watching as Fullmetal disappears from view.

"Do you regret bringing him here? Telling him to join the military?"

He thinks about it. No, he can't say that he does regret it. It's not that he's heartless, only that the boy would have ended up here on his own eventually, and he might as well have taken under his wing when he got the chance. No, out of all the military personnel he sees regularly, there's only one person he regrets seeing in uniform, even though he knows it's essentially his fault. But _she's_ saved his life more times than he can count because of it, so he can't really say anything against it.

So instead he tells her, "Sometimes," despising himself for the circumstances that allow him to have this conversation here with her, and turns back to his paperwork before his expression can give anything away.

**So, there it is! One down, ninety-nine to go... I'm going to need a lot of luck.**

**Anyhow, click that little button right there and tell me what you think?**

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	2. 2: Gunshot

**Hello again! I made it back today; are you proud of me? No, of course not, you just want the story. Well, here it is! Enjoy!**

**2. Gunshot**

It was the sound of gunshots that kept him going.

They were far off, barely recognizable as gunshots, but they meant that Lust had found them, and she was fighting, and Lust _wouldn't die, and she was so fragile, and-_

He was bleeding practically to death, and his ignition gloves were soaked through, but he had to do something. He had to find some way to make an array, to seal his wound and get to her, but what could he do? He was absolutely worthless for allowing this to happen!

In the distance, the shots paused, started up again- she had changed guns. Unbid, a memory rose to the front of his mind- the smell of burning flesh, the image of an array engraved permanently in human skin- and it gave him an idea.

The pain was unbearable, to the point where he nearly passed out a few times and had to stop to regain his composure, and the irony cut just as cruelly. To think that when he'd first seen her back it had made him hate his teacher- that it had made him hate himself just as much and more when he'd agreed to burn it beyond recognition for her- and that now he was using it in the hopes of protecting her was almost too much for his blood-deprived brain to cope with.

But the irony didn't matter, he reminded himself as he struggled agonizingly to his feet. The self-loathing didn't matter, the pain didn't matter, his injured, maybe dead subordinate on the floor next to him didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was getting to her before Lust could lay a hand on her.

The gunshots stopped.

**UWAH! Sorry, Havoc!**

**Anyway, click the little review button and leave me a review, eh?**

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	3. 3: Battlefield

**I really don't like the way this one turned out. I write better on weekdays, I think. Maybe you'll like it, though?**

**3. Battlefield**

She couldn't find him.

All around her were bodies, people injured and dead, and she couldn't find him.

What if he was among them? What if he was one of the bodies, lying on the ground haphazardly, taking shallow, labored breaths until even breathing was too much effort? Panic gripped her as the image of her commanding officer lying facedown in a pool of blood flashed across her mind. He couldn't be dead. He had to survive. He was her Colonel, her grounding force, her reason for being where she was today, her _Roy._

"Colonel? Colonel!"

A moan escapes one of the bodies on the battlefield, followed by a tentative, "Lieutenant?" Her heart races as she turns in the direction the sound had come from.

He is face up, and the pool of blood isn't as big as she'd imagined in her mind, but he's clearly hurt. Someone, somehow, has gotten past his flame alchemy and landed an attack on him. It's his side, she can see as she gets closer- someone shot him in the side. She thanks every lucky star she has that the wound is as low down as it is- a wound like this didn't often kill.

"Sir, you're wounded," she says, for lack of anything better to say. Relief seeps into her voice. He's wounded- not dead.

He gives her the best glare he can muster up. "Obviously. Why else would I be lying on the ground like this? Help me get to the medical tent."

As she helps him off the battlefield, his arm thrown over her shoulder for support, she wishes for a time when it wouldn't take a bullet wound for her to walk beside him like this.

**Review buttons are made for clicking!**

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	4. 4: Grave

**I've made it to four! I'm actually pretty shocked! I have NO idea what to do for tomorrow's theme, though. Crud... Enjoy!**

**4. Grave**

It was slightly ironic, in a bitter sort of way- earlier that day she'd been thinking that it was _supposed _to rain at funerals.

It wasn't actually raining, of course. As fitting as rain would have been, fate had seen fit to offer them clear skies that day, and if it had been anyone else standing two steps behind him she suspected he wouldn't have used the statement. Yet another case of irony- out of anyone who could have been there, she was one of the last people he needed to disguise his tears in front of. But there were other guises that had to be maintained, and so she merely agreed with a nod and suggested they leave, doing her best to send him silent support in his time of sorrow.

**Geez, this one is short! This is one of the saddest moments in the series for me- I cried for real, which I don't often do. I hope I did it justice here.**

**I've gotta come up with 100 different ways to say "Please review"?! I'mma die! I guess this counts as one, though...**

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	5. 5: Heiki and Heiki

**Here you go, guys. I apologize for how crappy this one is, and how it probably doesn't actually follow the theme at all, but I have a fever of 100 degrees Farenheit and I feel rotten, so the fact I actually got anything out is amazing. Anyway, enjoy or don't!**

**5. Heiki and Heiki**

He was a weapon, a tool, a dog of the military. He did their bidding without asking questions, going where they wanted him to go, killing who they wanted him to kill. Serving as a weapon- a tool of destruction- for the regime he hated so much, the regime he aspired to change.

She was a weapon, too, but not for the military. To be perfectly honest, the military didn't matter much at all to her. Perhaps she was a bit one-track minded in that, but it didn't matter, because she was who she was, and nothing could change that. No, she was a weapon for him, going wherever he went, killing anyone who tried to stand in his way. Serving as a weapon- a tool of protection- for the man she cared about so much, the man she hoped would never change.

They both had nightmares- horrible dreams in which they turned into a mindless killer, in which they didn't get there in time and lost everything- but such was the price one paid for offering oneself up as a weapon.

And as long as the next morning, when they dragged themselves into the office they despised so equally, the other was there as well, providing mutual support through the difficult times, they would both be fine.

**Review to make me feel better?**


	6. 6: Death

**Here we go- theme six! I'd like to say a thank you to my small group of reviewers! Getting a review makes my day!**

**Useless fact of the day- up to this point, out of all my Royai fanfics, the only times I have referred to Roy and Riza by name within a story has been A) within character dialog, and B) once within a sentence that was a character's thoughts. Um, yeah.**

**6. Death**

"Till death do us part."

He'd heard the words repeated far too many times, passing through the smiling lips of happy couples standing at the altar dressed in all the finery that weddings called for. It had always seemed like a stupid thing to say- on the one hand, what if you didn't love them until the day you died? It happened that way often enough, he knew. On the other hand, if you truly loved the person, wouldn't you continue to love them after they died?

It was only now, as he watched the blood soak her shirt and pool on the floor around her, completely helpless to do anything for her, that the words took on new, profound meaning for him. What about the people who never got to say those words? Who never got to exchange "Till death do us parts" because death parted them too soon?

Would that be him?

He supposed part of his cynicism was due to the fact that he had never expected to find himself saying those words. It wouldn't have been _safe_ to be saying those words, especially considering that she was the only person he could ever imagine himself with. But seeing any chance he might have had being ripped away right before his eyes made him realize just how much he wanted it to become a reality- how, if by some miracle she survived, he would find a way to make it a reality.

"Till death do us part," the saying went. If death parted them now, he didn't know what he might do.

**Review for me, please?**

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	7. 7: Crime and Punishment

**I really like this one, you guys! The ending kind of isn't to my satisfaction, but I do like the rest of it. I hope you do too!**

**For some reason, I had "Guilty Beauty Love" (Tamaki from Ouran HSHC's character song) stuck in my head the whole time I wrote this, which was annoying, because it doesn't fit the mood at all, and it made it hard for me to keep the tone. Anyway, enjoy!**

**7. Crime and Punishment**

It wasn't truly a crime, as far as legality went, but it still felt that way to her.

Because, after all, weren't crimes all sneaking and hiding and stealing, in some way or another? That's what this was- sneaking glances, hiding feelings, stealing precious minutes together. Everything was done in secret, whether it be quiet moments behind closed doors or double meanings in statements spoken in broad daylight- the thief's mask was always there, hiding true intentions from the world.

And as with any crime, there was the matter of the risk involved. In any crime you committed, you risked something- freedom, happiness, friendship. In this case, they risked life- more his than hers, although he always tried to pretend it was the other way around. His efforts were wasted; she had watched him long enough to know that if any risk came to her, he would sacrifice his own life above hers- no matter how much he would try to claim otherwise, no matter how much more important his life was than hers. So her life was never in any real risk, but at the same time it was, because she'd always told him she'd follow him into Hell, and she meant it literally as well as figuratively. Crimes were complicated like that.

And so their punishment, as agreed upon by both of them, was to distance themselves. It was the perfect solution- eliminating the risk alongside the temptation. Names were replaced with ranks, soft words with cold commands, gentle touches with stiff salutes. If anyone asked, they were Colonel and Lieutenant, or Strong Leader and Loyal Follower, or something else that implied her utmost faith in his actions, because those were the explanations that seemed most plausible to the public eye. They remained professional, no closer than one would expect of two who had served together without truly getting to know each other, and the outside world believed it, and she did her best not to wallow in misery. It was her punishment, and she deserved it, and the least she could do was take it on with her shoulders back and her best foot forward and her face at least somewhat composed.

But sometimes, they would slip into criminal habits again, and the whole cycle would continue.

**So there it is! I've been doing the 100 Themes Challenge for a week now. That's actually pretty impressive to me, even. Review, please?**

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	8. 8: StoreLined Streets

**It's always a good sign that I'm returned to health if I can corrupt a seemingly fluffy theme like today's! You have been warned. I do like this theme, though!**

**I'd like to throw in a little "disclaimer" for anyone who may be reading my reviews (if there's anyone out there who does): binggirl17 and G Dawg :) are friends of mine in the real world. Therefore, they may get a little crazy in their reviews. (I love you guys!) Thank you, that is all. Enjoy the drabble!**

**8. Store-Lined Streets**

They were all empty now.

As she walked past them, she caught glimpses into the lives of the people who had once run the shops- this little booth had been a clothing store, selling the rough homespun tunics she'd seen so many of them wearing, this one a flower shop, offering a bit of brightness into the otherwise monotony of their sand-colored lives, this one sold jewelry, made of shards of stone that reflected the light or whatever they found that looked pretty enough to display around the neck. Such ordinary wares. For they had been such ordinary people.

As she caught glimpses into these lives, she couldn't help but wonder, had she been the one to ruin all that? Had her finger pulled the trigger that killed the seamstress's son, the fruit peddler's husband, or the butcher? How many innocent, ordinary lives had she upset here? How many shops would go unopened because of her actions?

At this point, there was no turning back. When she'd joined the military, she'd known that there would be danger- that she would never be able to become a normal civilian girl, with a flower shop or bakery of her own, but she'd accepted that fact. The possibility of her death was a risk she had to take- it was only now that she realized that even a shopkeeper could be shot down at any moment. Was nobody safe, then? Had she helped create a world where even store-lined streets would be painted with blood?

"Do you ever wonder," he asked, stepping up beside her out of nowhere, "what their lives would have been like if we hadn't come in and torn them apart?"

So maybe the happy, safe store-lined streets in her mind's eye were just a fantasy she'd helped destroy. But at least she wasn't alone in her regrets.

"Sometimes, Sir."

**I actually have more reviews than chapters now! I'm impressed! Wanna help keep things that way?**

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	9. 9: Unknown Past

**Sorry this one's so late in the day. I'm feeling rather uninspired today. I don't really like this one- I got the tenses all screwed up. Oh, well.**

**9. Unknown Past**

He wouldn't have been so sympathetic if he had known.

If he had known, he wouldn't have felt like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs when he had come in in his military blues that night. He wouldn't have been so devastated at the death of his master.

In the long run, this probably wouldn't be enough for him to come to despise his master, or to even dislike him. He had studied under the man for years; bonds like that weren't easily broken. But right now, faced with the full evidence of the awful thing his master had done to someone he shared an even stronger bond with, he was too outraged to think about anything long-term.

His own daughter! His master had done this to his own daughter, used her like nothing more than a blank sheet of paper! And she had borne that burden, for how long he didn't even want to guess at, remaining silent despite the pain and trouble it must have caused her. He had trusted this man to teach him how to best serve the people- his last words had been an order to use the knowledge with good intentions!- and he didn't even seem to know how to treat his own daughter! The idea was outrageous and infuriating!

"Please, Mr. Mustang. Just copy the array down quickly," she asked him then, her voice more meek and ashamed than he'd ever heard it before, and he realizes just how much embarrassment this must cause her. It only makes him angrier at his master, for inflicting this pain upon her. There's so much about this woman he doesn't know, he realized, so much he wishes he'd taken the time to learn. If he had known, he might not have been willing to learn what he had.

But all the wishful thinking in the world wouldn't change a thing, and so he took a vow, then and there, copying down the array hastily. He will not let her down, will not waste this trust she has given him. The secrets of her past that she has allowed him to see will be used only for progress, not for destruction. It's the least he can do for her.

And maybe, if he plays his cards right, she'll open up and allow him to see more parts of her unknown past.

**Thanks for reading!**

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	10. 10: Promise

**It's still today here, I swear! As in, I didn't miss a day! I just had to go watch Brotherhood, you know? This one's really short, so I apologize, but I'm spring break this week, so they should be better. Enjoy!**

**10. Promise**

She never made promises she couldn't keep.

There were, however, promises she'd rather not be forced to follow through on. Now, with the gun pointed at his head, she realized just how much she wished she'd never made this promise. It would be the death of her, this promise, because it would be the death of _him_, and she couldn't live to see a day without him standing in control.

She'd made the promise, though, and now she had to keep it, and she would shoot him if she must. And maybe it was better that way- if he had changed, then was he really the man she wanted to follow? There was no turning back from here.

She didn't make promises she couldn't keep- only ones she wished she hadn't.

**So, there it is- theme number 10. I am one tenth of the way there. That's actually kind of hard to believe! I've enjoyed this so far, and I hope you have too! If so, tell me?**

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	11. 11: Liar

**So I decided to do this one as a 100 word thing. It actually kind of worked, which shocked me- usually when I try to do 100 words, I have to drag it out like crazy. So enjoy! I actually kinda like this one.**

**11. Liar**

"It's a war injury."

That was what she always told them, those choice few who had ever glimpsed the scars on her back and had been brave enough to ask her about them. And it was true enough, in a way. It was because of the war that she'd gotten the scars.

If she told them, if they knew that he'd put them there, they wouldn't understand. They wouldn't look at either of them the same ever again. So she had to be a liar- had to keep brushing the questions off- to protect them. She had to protect him.

**R&R stands for Roy & Riza! And Read & Review! (Hint hint!)**

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	12. 12: Proof

**I'm not sure my quote at the beginning is word for word right, but it depends on what translation you read too, doesn't it? Anyway, enjoy!**

**12. Proof**

"When we're alone, the Colonel always calls me Riza."

That small part of her that still had time to worry about the trivial things desperately wished the words she was saying were true. But true or not, they did the job. They gathered the needed proof that this was not her Colonel after all.

The homunculus' reaction was both satisfying and upsetting. It showed her that he was an imposter without leaving any room for doubt. But it also hurt her, that glimmer of what could be that came with his words. No, they weren't together. They may have wished it were true, but it was not.

But the homunculus' words held a proof of their own- proof that the possibility of the two of them together was believable. That she could fool others into believing they were together as easily as they fooled others into believing they were nothing more than master and subordinate. It was this proof she would cling to as she turned to face the Promised Day head on.

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	13. 13: Betrayal

**So an attempt to sit down and write today's theme turned into an hour of looking through what pops up when you search "royai" on today. Even still, I got this one out earlier in the day than most of them lately. So read it and enjoy it!**

**13. Betrayal**

It never occurred to him that something as simple as an embrace could be an act of betrayal, but that's what it was.

He was betraying so much with this one simple act- betraying her by putting her in danger, betraying himself by breaking his resolve to stay distant to protect her, betraying them by showing the way he felt in front of anyone who cared to look. He should have been more concerned by that, but he couldn't find it in himself to be concerned by the betrayal, because at least she was alive and safe, and as long as he was embracing her and could _feel_ she was there, he could be sure it wasn't a dream.

Besides, he had committed far worse betrayals that day, in that very room. He'd agreed _not_ to do everything in his power to save her life. It was this betrayal that stung far worse than any other in his mind, even though it had been at her word. And yet, even after that, she was still here beside him, still willing to watch his back. If they could survive that betrayal, they could stand to survive a few more.

**That button down there? The one the "V"s are pointing at? You should click it!**

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	14. 14: Covered Eyes

**14. Covered Eyes**

The sunlight coming in from the window was unpleasant. She did the only logical thing and covered her eyes with her arm, squinting them tighter shut.

It was still too early. She didn't need to get up yet; it was still early morning, she could still sleep for a while-

"Riza, it's time to get up. You don't want to be late." Of _course,_ she had to marry an early riser who just _couldn't_ let her sleep in.

"No, 's not. 'S still dark," she muttered at him, pressing her arm hard against her eyes in a last-ditch effort to keep the day out.

"That's because your arm's over your eyes. Come on, I made breakfast already. You need to get up."

"Fine," she said grudgingly, "but only because you made breakfast."

When she moved her arm away from her eyes, he smiled. "Good. I was waiting to see your pretty eyes."

It didn't matter, she realized, that she was a late riser and he was an early bird. They made it work anyway.


	15. 15: Scent of Blood

**15. Scent of Blood**

As a dog, Black Hayate was required to have a good sense of smell.

His master, to his surprise, smelled of blood that night. Her own blood, not some felled enemy. This upset him. His master wasn't supposed to bleed! She smelled of fear, too, as she slumped to the floor. This wasn't like her. She usually smelled of calm and peace, and occasionally of gunpowder, but never of blood and fear. Something was wrong.

She stayed motionless despite his attempts to figure out why she was upset, which was strange and frightening. Usually she scratched his head or patted him on the back. And then the phone rang, and she jumped, the smell of fear overcoming the smell of blood for a moment as she stood to answer it.

Hayate knew who it was by the tone of his master's voice and the way the fear-smell vanished. It was her master, the man she trotted after in the same way Hayate trotted after her. Hayate liked the man- he always made his master smell happier, just like he was doing now. The humans exchanged a few words, then hung up the phone, and his master bent down to hug him and pet him at last. The tone in her voice as she spoke to him matched the smell that was overtaking the scent of blood- the special-happy smell that always seemed to come with these phone calls. This was the master he knew and loved. He liked his master's master for being able to bring her back like this.

Maybe someday, he'd become Hayate's other master. Hayate thought he'd like that.


	16. 16: Reaching Voice

**All right, here's 16, in its rightful place! Again, I'm sorry about that!**

**16. Reaching Voice**

He was floating.

Colors swirled around him in ever-changing pattern. Sounds drifted in and out of coherency. One sound in particular came across stronger than the rest.

"Colonel."

It was a sound that reminded him of the warm, safe places of his childhood- of happiness and sorrow mingled bittersweetly. At some point in his life, it had become his favorite sound.

"Colonel!"

Except for when it was harsh like this.

He abruptly became aware of being shaken, and snapped upright in his chair. "Where do I sign?" he blurted out automatically, then cursed himself under his breath for being so stupid.

"Colonel, you fell asleep on the job again. If you keep this up, you'll never get anything done."

Yes, he thought as he attempted to brush the incident off as nothing, if her voice could reach him in the depths of his dreams, it could reach him anywhere. And that was precisely why he kept her close.


	17. 17: Scars

**My profuse apologies, you guys. It wasn't until I finished this one that I realized I'd skipped 16. So, in an effort to remain at one theme a day, I'm going to post this today and write 16 tomorrow. Then I'll switch this to chapter 17 and put 16 in its rightful place. Again, I apologize. I was just having a slow moment.**

**17. Scars**

"Mr. Mustang?"

"Riza. Thank God you're here. I can't reach this one spot on my back, and since you already had the chicken pox, I need you to scratch it."

She frowned at him, a vengeful streak running through her. Sure, she had been the one to give him the chicken pox, but there had been no help for her when it came to reaching those hard to get to places. Why should he be relieved of the torture she had to feel?

"Father asked me to bring you this salve. It helps the itching. A little bit. You know, if you keep scratching at it, you're gonna get scars."

He snatched the jar away from her, still scratching at his arms despite her warning. "I don't care. It itches so much! 'Sides, didn't you scratch yours?"

She sniffed indignantly. "Yes, and I have the scars to prove it." She pointed to the skin beside her right eye at a small circular mark. "See?"

"Well, I can't let a girl outdo me! I bet I'll have more scars than you!"

"Mr. Mustang, I don't think that's a good idea. Just use the salve and _stop scratching at it!"_

Years later, when he would look in the mirror and see the tiny scar next to his left eye, he would remember the quiet days.


	18. 18: I Don't Want To Realize

**18. I Don't Want To Realize**

Some part of her inherently refused to let her look him in the eye.

She was a perfectly observant individual, after all- she wouldn't have made it as a sniper otherwise. In fact, she had already subconsciously noticed the horrible truth- she just didn't want to have to face the reality of it, and so she looked straight ahead, at his chest instead of his face, so she could pretend everything was fine for just a little longer.

And besides, her less-than-kind streak would say to her later, he didn't know where she was looking anyway. She could go the rest of her life without looking at his face again and he would never know, if she wanted to. She could go right on denying everything.

But she couldn't deny it anymore, not really. From the second he spoke the words and shattered her poorly constructed illusion, she had known. Just because she didn't want to realize the truth didn't make it any less true.

And if she chose to keep denying it, how could she ever be there to guide him?


	19. 19: Things One Cannot Understand

**19. Things One Cannot Understand**

"Riza?"

"Yes?"

"Has your floor always been this slick?"

"Yes, it has."

"And your table. Has it always been this tall?"

"Nothing's changed at all."

"Riza?"

"Yes?"

"What do _you_ feel like?"

"I haven't changed either."

"…"

"What, no more questions?"

"Riza?"

"Yes?"

"Which way's the bathroom?"


	20. 20: Murder

**20. Murder**

"I'm surprised, Lieutenant. I always thought you'd be more of a romance type."

She turned to see him surveying her bookshelf. "Of course not, Sir. Romance novels are frivolous fantasies and generally contain very little actual plot. Reading them would be a complete waste of my time." Honestly, how had he thought she'd like that kind of thing? She thought he knew her better than _that!_

He looked at her, then back at her shelves. "You're right- I'm not sure why I thought that in the first place. But seriously- _murder_ mysteries? How is that any better?"

"They keep me alert, Sir. At this point in my life, I have more to worry about by way of preventing murders than romance. Romance novels won't keep you alive."

"Don't you ever do anything for yourself, Lieutenant?"

She glanced at him. "This is for me, Sir."

"Yes, ma'am."


	21. 21: Repentance

**21. Repentance**

She hadn't expected him to react this way.

It wasn't like anyone was listening. There were no appearances to keep up. Havoc would have remained asleep if he hadn't made such a racket about it all. She had opted to tell him the whole truth, and he had reacted much more harshly to it than she had expected.

Not that she didn't deserve it. She knew that even what he had said wasn't enough to reprimand her for what she had done. She had been foolish, stupid, weak, and now she had to repent for it because he had to put his own life in danger to protect hers when she wouldn't.

But even though he should have, he hadn't given up on her. He would continue to trust her. And to hear him say that again, even in the tone of an officer to a subordinate, she would beg forgiveness a thousand times over.


	22. 22: God

**22. God**

He'd never been a religious man. As an alchemist, one who could transform rock into gold or set the air around them alight, it was hard to be impressed by a higher power.

Even still, every time her life was in danger, he found himself praying to whatever deity would take him that somehow, she'd be all right. Praying that it wouldn't be the last time he heard her voice, saw her pretty eyes.

He wasn't a religious man, but some power out there must have liked him an awful lot.


	23. 23: Someone I Want To Protect

**23. Someone I Want To Protect**

To be perfectly honest, she hated the military.

She hated the freedoms it took away from her- the freedom to wear whatever she wanted, say anything she wanted to say, live anywhere she felt like- hated that it molded her into something she wasn't. Created a killer out of her.

But he was in the military, and the military was dangerous, especially for someone trying to make it to the top. And she couldn't stand to imagine a world in which he was dead. She had to protect him.

So she ignored her hatred for the military, ignored her desire for freedom and innocence, and worked her way up the ranks. Because above all the things she wanted for herself, she wanted to protect him.


	24. 24: Not Here

**24. Not Here**

Someone is knocking at the door. I cover my head with my pillow and ignore it.

"Lieutenant? It's me."

Of _course _it is. He always has to come at the most inopportune times. Like on the rare occasions when I have a killer hangover, and can't stand the pounding of my head, let alone his pounding on the door. "'M not here. Go 'way," I force out, squeezing my eyes shut tight.

"Hawkeye, you know as well as I do that you're lying. Open the door."

"Open it yourself. It's unlocked." If I get up, I'll probably end up sprawled out on the ground.

It takes him no time to make his way back to my bedroom. "Why aren't you at work today, Lieutenant? You never call in sick, even when you _are _sick."

"Four words. Rebecca. Havoc. Drinking contest." He can figure out the rest.

"You're kidding me! Who won?"

Does he not understand the concept of a headache? "I did, but I really wish I hadn't, and if you don't leave me alone to sleep, I am going to make you wish you were never born. Just as soon as I can get out of bed without collapsing."

He chuckles, not in the least bit bothered by my anger. "Looks like you need some aspirin. I'll go get you some. Is it still in the same place?"

"I _need_ you to leave me alone. And yes."

"Shh," he tells me, coming back with the aspirin and the water. "I'm not here either. Just get some sleep so you can get over this."

This is inappropriate and could get us both into trouble, I know. Even still, my last thought before drifting off to sleep is, "If neither of us are here, what's the harm?"


	25. 25: So I'm Crying

**25. So I'm Crying**

You're alive. You've been injured, and you may never be quite the same, but you're alive, and you're going to be all right. And that's all that really matters.

"Are you sure you don't need anything, Sir?" you ask, your voice a little raspy. You've said that it will go back to normal before long, but in truth, it's doubtful. Your face has been taken away, and even your voice isn't the same, but at least you're not dead.

"I'm fine, Riza. Where are my men? I want to speak to them."

You hesitate a moment before answering; when you do, you sound sad and small. "We… we lost Breda and Feury, Sir. Falman's been hospitalized, but they expect him to make a full recovery. Havoc is still at his family's store."

You break the news bluntly but regretfully- if you did it any other way, it wouldn't be you. You recognize their overwhelming dedication and how much their efforts have accomplished, but you also know that you honor the dead most by helping the living, and so you tell things as they are, mourn in private, and move on with life. You are a role model, a perfect example of how everyone should live, and yet you never believe yourself to be anything special. You are an amazement.

"Sir, maybe we should go somewhere else," you say. "It's… it's started to rain."

You are always so tactful, always ready to protect the feelings of those around you even if it means sounding like an idiot, saying it's raining inside an underground room. "No, this is fine. So I'm crying. Any officer would mourn the loss of his subordinates. But I haven't lost everything. I haven't lost you."

So I'm crying. But you're crying, too, and you're holding tightly to me, and that's when nothing else matters. You're here, and that's all I need.


	26. 26: Cureless

**26. Cureless**

Nothing was set in stone.

There were no irreversible situations. Too many times, he had heard the word "foolproof" and watched plans fail anyway, had heard the word "hopeless" and watched her get away from the danger. There was no all-or-nothing with proof like that.

Still, he was cureless when it came to loving her.

He loved her deeply, passionately, and every time she put herself into one of those so-called hopeless situations, he felt his heart leap into his throat for fear.

He was cureless when it came to loving her, but he didn't want to find a cure.


	27. 27: Dependency

**Spoilers for chapter 106, but they're not too bad.**

**27. Dependency**

He hated being dependant on the woman, Fullmetal's teacher. He was supposed to be able to help, but now he was helpless, not even able to get himself out of the way without the assistance of others.

But when he heard _her _voice, her concern when he told her they'd taken his vision, he realized that dependency wasn't so bad. It just depended on who you were depending on. He knew he could depend on her. So he asked the question that needed to be asked:

"Can you still fight?"


	28. 28: Pain and Wounds

**28. Pain and Wounds**

He always worried about everyone else before he worried about himself. It was one of the things that frustrated her most about him. He could be on the brink of death, and he would be concerned about a couple of broken ribs or a cut on someone else. It was going to get him killed someday.

It was ridiculous of him to worry about her. Surely he knew that. He was the colonel, she was his subordinate. She wasn't as important as he was, and he was far more injured than she was besides. She'd barely even been hurt, but he didn't even have the strength to stand up. He was worrying needlessly.

Besides, if something were to happen to him, it would cut more deeply and hurt her far more than any battle-inflicted wound ever could. So if he was really as worried as all that about her, he needed to worry about himself first. Losing him was the one wound she would never be able to recover from.


	29. 29: Existence

**Spoilers for 106 in the form of speculation about what will happen in the next chapter.**

**29. Existence**

There was nothing. And then, without warning, everything was back- color, movement, light and dark. And her.

He could see. It was as strange as the moment he'd realized he was blind- his whole world reversed for the second time that day. All around him, human-like forms were melting in agonizing puddles of flesh, but he ignored them. Because he could see her, and that meant she couldn't lie about how badly hurt she was. He needed her to fight for him, but not if it would endanger her.

"Lieutenant, are you sure you're all right? You look pale."

She whirled, and he watched her expression change from confusion to shock to joy as she realized what he was saying. But then, just like the figures he had seen around him, his vision began to melt, and she slipped away from him as his mind returned to darkness.

He might never see her face again. But that brief glimpse of her, that chance to see her face and the look in her eyes, proved to him she was real. Her existence wasn't something he'd imagined.

And as long as she was real, he could survive an eternity of darkness.


	30. 30: Conversation

**30. Conversation**

To an outsider, it would seem just like an officer speaking to his subordinate.

After all, that was how it was supposed to look. The more it looked like a purely professional conversation, the less likely it would put them in danger. And that was important, when one of them was aspiring to become fuhrer and the other was there to protect him.

But they knew better. They knew each hidden meaning and nuance in the other's speech and actions. After all, they had been together for a long time.

And they knew what words went unsaid: "I love you."


	31. 31: Home Cooking

**31. Home Cooking**

"Umm, Roy?"

"Yes?"

"It's really sweet of you to cook for me and everything, but…"

"Crap! Don't tell me you don't like spaghetti? I should have known! Geez, I'm so stupid!"

"Oh, spaghetti! So _that's_ what this is!"

"You… you couldn't tell?"

"Not… not really. You don't cook much, do you?"

"Never anything very fancy. I usually stick to the simple stuff. You know- peanut butter and jelly, instant ramen, toast and eggs…"

"Roy?"

"Mmhmm?"

"As I was saying earlier, it was sweet of you to cook for me, but next time we do this, I'm doing the cooking, okay?"


	32. 32: Shirt

**32. Shirt**

"What are you up to?" he asks me, coming into the room.

"Trying to get the blood out of this shirt," I reply, srubbing at it. "It'd be a waste if it's ruined."

I know he knows exactly what shirt I'm talking about- the one I was wearing when they slit my throat. It went without saying.

"You like the shirt that much?"

"I hate it. But I'm not going to waste a perfectly good shirt."

"Leave it," he tells me. "To serve as a reminder."

"A reminder of what?"

"Of how close I came to losing you. I don't want to let myself forget."

There is no way I'm going to save it as a reminder for someone who can't even see it. "This is all the reminder you need," I tell him, taking his hand and running it along the scar on my neck. "Now make yourself useful or get out of here. You're distracting me."

He leaves.


	33. 33: A Walk

**33. A Walk**

"Oh, good! You're back."

He glared at her. "Which is a miracle in and of itself. How on earth do you handle this dog?"

The dog in question was in the process of jumping all over the man in question in an attempt to lick his face. She rolled her eyes. "Hayate, heel!"

The sound of his master's voice brought the dog to attention at once, and he did as she said.

"See, now was that so hard?"

"Just don't ever ask me to walk your dog again. That animal is a spaz!"

She couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Weren't you the one who told Feury that dogs obeyed your every command without complaining?" She couldn't help it; it was just so fun to annoy him.

"You've _clearly_ got this under control, so I'll be on my way. See you later, Leiutenant."

"Sir?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"Thanks."


	34. 34: Telephone

**I'm back! I apologize for the random unannounced hiatus, but I've had quite a hectic time of it recently. In the past... what's it been, a week or two?... I've had a college visit, make-or-break standardized testing, prom preparations, and working my butt off on a piece for a writing contest (wish me luck!), so I haven't had much time to write these things! Luckily, other than AP tests and prom, I should have more free time now, so I'm going to stick with it. But I'm boring you, so if you're still reading this and actually didn't skip straight to the story, I want to say thank you for all the lovely reviews, and enjoy the ficlet!**

**34. Telephone**

There was blood everywhere.

And as a soldier, she should have been used to blood, but knowledge of exactly whose blood it was made it nearly impossible to bear. He hadn't deserved to die- Maes had been such a kind and loving man in life. Not that anyone truly deserved death, or that everybody else who had died had actually deserved it, but seeing Hughes' blood spattered around the small booth made it that much more real, and that much more painful.

She tried to discern from his stance how he was taking things. Hughes had been one of his best friends, one of those most supportive of his vision for the country. It was no small wonder that he was able to function professionally at all.

He looked stiff, weary. She knew exactly what was going through his head. He would use every waking moment to hunt for the killer until Hughes' death was avenged. It would consume him. She had to distract him, draw his attention from the bloody telephone booth before it turned him murderous. She didn't want to lose him along with Maes.

"Sir," she said, and to her relief he turned reluctantly to look at her, "I've brought Major Armstrong."


	35. 35: Letter

**Well, FF.N just ruined my day. This lack of strikethrough button really kills the whole drabble here. Can you all just pretend the underlines are going through the words, and that this doesn't totally ruin it?**

**35. Letter**

Lieut

Hawke

Riza,

I just wanted to let you know that

For as long as I've known you, I

I know I don't always make it clear, but

This isn't really like me, but I felt like

I'm not sure how to start this, but

Screw this. I love you, and you already know that. This is a waste of time.

-Roy

**It's just not the same... orz**


	36. 36: Dog

**36. Dog**

"Um, Sir?"

He rolled his eyes. "You know I'm not in the military anymore, Havoc. You don't have to call me that."

I couldn't help but grin sheepishly, even though he couldn't see it. "I know, I know. The thing is, we- Feury, Breda, Falman, and myself, that is- were a bit concerned about something…"

"For heaven's sake, man, spit it out!" The tone of voice he was using made me wonder if he could still do flame alchemy blind. I decided I didn't want to chance it.

"We're just not sure that this is going to be the best arrangement. For Black Hayate, that is."

"Excuse me?"

"Seeing as you seem to have a rather abusive look on the canine race, that is…" Canine race? Where did I get that? Even Feury was having a laugh at that one.

It was quiet for a minute. Then, "This conversation is over, men. I am getting married tomorrow morning, and there is no way I am going to take advice about dogs from someone who threatened to stir-fry the creature. Especially not someone who can't hold down a girlfriend."

I could have reminded him that I had been dating his soon-to-be wife's best friend for nearly a year now. I could have told him I had her ring in my pocket with me right now. But that would be bad sportsmanship. So instead I said, "Just be careful. I'd hate to see what Hawkeye would do to you if you did anything bad to her beloved pet. After all, she's been with _him_ longer than you…"

So he could still use flame alchemy. Or at least thought he could. It was time to get out of here.

I just hoped Hawkeye could train him as well as she'd trained Hayate.


	37. 37: Match

**37. Match**

They always had a box of matches somewhere in the house.

He thought it was ridiculous, personally. After all, when you have the ability to ignite the very air around you, matches seemed a bit superfluous.

But she carried the burden of every life he'd taken in Ishbal, refusing to let go of the thought that allowing him to see her secrets had caused so much death. She blamed herself for killing every one of those people, and his alchemy reminded her of her regrets.

So even if they were unneeded, they always used the matches, because she preferred them.


	38. 38: Mischief

**38. Mischief**

"…and as she sat on the log, listening to the eerie sounds of the night, she heard something that was _definitely_ not the average woodland creature."

We had her here. I just had to hope that Elliot from down the street was paying attention as well as I was paying _him._

I wasn't disappointed- a deafening, terrifying growl echoed through the forest. Riza flinched and began to sweat a little, but kept her expression calm. She must have got that from her dad.

"Too terrified to turn around, too terrified to run for fear she'd fall, she did the only thing she could. She plugged her ears, stayed where she was, and tried to convince herself she was imagining it all.

"Before long, she heard rustling in the woods, like a big, vicious creature moving through the bushes."

There it was, the rustling. It was amazing what you could do with advanced alchemy, it really was.

"She was just about to give up and run for her life when…"

I waited for Elliot to grab her on her shoulders and scare the living daylights out of her, but he nothing happened. Then, a firm hand clamped down on my shoulder, and I was the one jumping.

"Young man, you have quite a bit of explaining to do. Just why were you trying to terrorize my daughter?"

Crap. I was dead.

"Daddy, he was using alchemy too! He used it to make the trees rustle!"

"Riza, not you too!"

She gave me a mischievous grin. And I thought I was the devious one.

I _would_ get back at her. There was no way to prove it if a bug mysteriously found its way into her cereal tomorrow, was there?


	39. 39: Sly Person

**39. Sly Person**

None of the others would ever guess.

It was because they covered their tracks so well. Every year, she'd show the proper amount of disdain, and his latest "girlfriend" would come in and be mushy with him, and they'd never know. That it was all an act.

Because no matter how much disdain she showed, February had always been her favorite month of the year, and not for the weather. No matter how much he carried on, he never really meant any of it. Besides, nine times out of ten it was Vanessa who came into the office under a fake name to flirt.

It was how it always happened, and it worked well. Because none of the others would ever begin to suspect that there were chocolates in her desk drawer, that there were cookies waiting for him in the car, that when they said "Goodbye" it really meant "I'll see you at seven for dinner." That they'd spent every Valentine's Day with each other for the last eight years.

Their relationship was such a well-guarded secret that it barely existed. But when you were sly about it, accommodations could be made.


	40. 40: Halves

**Sorry for vanishing again. Prom, you know? **

**Semi-spoilers for chapter 107 (if you have read it, what do you think? If you haven't, GO READ IT, GOSHDARNIT!)**

**40. Halves**

He could perform alchemy that could burn you to a crisp in a second, with the type of razor's edge accuracy that was rarely rivalled. But he couldn't see to direct his devastating attacks.

She had the eyes of a hawk, missing nothing, gauging every distance precisely. But she had no alchemical talent to speak of.

Never, she thought as she adjusted his arm upward a little, had there been two more perfectly matched halves of a whole.


End file.
